Against All Odds
by krstic
Summary: Set in the time period of Deathly Hallows, some events changed to different dates. Rated T for possible swearing and violence. Seamus Finnigan will be starting his seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts - though several things will be different. Hermione Granger is off searching for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron. Caught in the center of a war, anything can happen.


_Fandom: _**Harry Potter**

_Pairing:_** Seamus and Hermione**

_Time Period: _**Deathly Hallows**

**Written by krstic**

**Disclaimer: All characters and canon settings belong to J. K. Rowling. I make no money out of this, as this is simply fan-made.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

She bid her goodbyes to Victor, and made her way through the crowd, heading towards the freckled red-haired boy sitting alone at one of the tables. When she sat down next to him, she suddenly felt her face flush and the butterflies in her stomach awaken.

"It's hot in here, isn't it?" she asked, fanning herself with her hand.

Well, that might not have been the best approach to the subject (she was capable of much better) but she had already said it.

"Victor's just gone to get us some drinks," she said, turning to look at the boy next to her, a lock of her brown curls falling obscuring as she did, "would you like to join us?"

He was silent for a moment, and she took the time to tend to the stubborn lock of hair that kept falling out of her carefully crafted bun. When he replied he took her by surprise, making the blush leave her cheeks and all the happy butterflies disappear.

"Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vickie_ yet?" he spat.

"What's up with you?"

Blue eyes turned to look at her brown ones and said in a flat tone, "He's the _enemy_."

"The enemy?"

"Yes, the ene-"

"Ron!" she said sharply, cutting him off, "The whole competition is about _making friends_."

It was the Yule Ball of 1994, and Ronald Weasley was disgusted by the fact that Hermione Granger had gone to the ball with the famous Quidditch Star, Victor Krum.

"Oh," said Ron, raising his eyebrows, "I think he's got a bit more than _friendship_ on _his_ mind. Don't you agree_ 'Mione_?"

Her nostrils flared as she took a sharp breath, she turned on her heel in an attempt to leave an aggravated Ron behind. He was vile when he was mad, but then again, wasn't everyone? Regardless, she did not want to be around him at this time.

"Hey!" Hermione heard him call after her, "Hey listen! Hermione, we're not done with this!"

"Well," she snapped, not even turning around to look at him, "you may not be, Ronald, but _I_ am."

She kept walking, though she heard Ron's pace increase just as hers did. Of course, he wanted to keep fighting, he was always like that.

"He's using you."

She sped up, feeling the tears well up in her eyes.

_Don't cry._

Her hair was coming undone, falling across her face and her back in brown curls. She was frustrated that Ron had to be that way, annoyed that he had to be so stubborn and hurt that he did not listen to her when he was this way.

"He is no-"

"He _is_, Hermione!" Scarlett dress robe and carrot red hair came into view from the corner of her eye.

Hermione whipped around and glared at Ron, the periwinkle fabric of her dress made a soft _'swish'_ noise as she spun around. Her voice trembled with emotion and her eyes were watery.

"You know the answer then, _don't you_?"

Ron gave her a cold stare before replying, teeth clenched, "Go ahead. Answer it."

Hermione took a shaky breath, choosing her words carefully, to express her thoughts to the best of her abilities, "Next time there's a ball, _ask me_, Ronald – before _someone else_ does and _not_ as a last resort."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. His ears went pink and he shot her daggers. Hermione was prepared to say more, but stopped when she felt someone tap her shoulder.

The young witch spun around, and was met by a pair of bright green eyes watching her intently. The green eyes belonged to a boy with round glasses, messy raven hair and a unique scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead.

"Hermione-" the boy began.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, cutting him off, "Where on Earth have _you_ been?"

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off once more.

"It doesn't matter. Off to bed – _both_ of you!"

Harry snatched a look at Ron who stood fuming on the stone stairs leading to the Fat Lady's Portrait, before mumbling a small "Alright" and obeying.

Hermione thought she felt herself calming slightly, but that thought quickly vanished when she heard Ron speak to Harry, but loudly enough so she could hear.

"They get worse as they get older."

"_RON_!" she shouted, though it was not as loud as she intended for the Weird Sisters were performing "Do the Hippogriff"

"_Ron you spoil everything_!"

Ron said nothing, and neither did Harry as they made their way upstairs.

_Why does he have to be this way?_

She ran her hands through her hair, destroying her carefully crafted bun even more.

_Why does he have to be so stubborn and hot-tempered?_

The tears re-appeared in her eyes, blurring her vision and hurting her eyes when she looked at the enchanted ceiling which was slowly letting snowflakes float to the ground and onto everyone on the dance floor.

She shook her head, trying to contain herself.

"They'll think you're weak…" she said to herself in a small voice, "Everyone will … Gryffindors are supposed to be brave and strong…"

_Do not cry._

The tears were coming regardless of what she told herself. Bit by bit, little by little…

_Stop it, Hermione._

There were times when she hated Ron. These were one of them.

_Hermione, collect yourself. Stop crying…_

Ronald.

_Stop it._

Billius.

_Stop it…_

Weasley.

_Stop…_

At that precise moment, Hermione lost it. She sat down on the steps, letting the tears stream down her cheeks and letting the sobs escape her throat. It no longer mattered if someone noticed, she could not care less. All that was happening at that moment would later be considered "understandable" to Hermione, though as she sat there pouring her heart out to no one but herself, it most certainly was not considered "understandable".

Her tears dripped onto her dress, soiling the pretty material. Her hair was a mess, she could tell. Her mascara had most likely become foul black smudges trailing down her cheeks and around her eyes and her hands could not stop shaking. So many emotions, so many _bloody_ emotions all at once.

Nobody, not a single which or wizard, noticed her. All the students, Hogwarts and not, were too busy being entertained by the popular Weird Sisters or their dates to the Ball, to turn their heads and look towards the stairs and notice a young witch who had just had her heart-broken. Even if they did see her, they either did not have the kindness or the empathy inside them to comfort her, or felt that it was the typical "teenage tragedy", therefore being nothing special, nothing worth their time.

Then again, there is always an exception.

The exception was not a Beauxbatons student, not a Durmstang (especially _not_ Victor Krum, as he had called it a night and gone to bed) but instead a fellow Hogwarts student. A classmate, someone she did not know that well, though wished she did at certain times.

He stood in the center of the crowd of people - that spot where you hear the music the best and experience the experience in the best way possible. The fact that he had a goblet of pumpkin juice in his hand, and that his three best friends were with him was a bonus to his night.

He was not expecting to see her alone, much less crying. In the three, almost four, years that he had known Hermione Granger, he had never seen her cry. He had seen her look _although_ she was going to cry in their Second Year when Malfoy had called her a "mudblood", but this was different. Now there were actually tears running down her face.

The most shocking thing was that he could not take his eyes of her. It was not that she was unattractive, which she was not, it just that she had suddenly become something different than "just a friend". She was also now classified in his mind as "temporarily broken" but with that, she was also "a beautiful broken", because she was so damaged that she was lovely.

"What're you looking at?" a boy with a round face, a head of blonde hair, and who was on the shorter side asked him.

"Nothin'," he replied, his eyes unmoving.

_Merlin, he wanted to do something…_

"Neville, he's talking to a girl," said a dreamy voice - belonging to a girl with blonde hair and silver eyes, "Look."

Neville's eyes looked at him then squinted through the crowd of people, searching, "Luna, who is it? Where is she?"

"She?" questioned a boy with dark skin standing nearby the group, his arm around a girl who had skin slightly darker than his and shiny black hair that fell down her shoulders, "Who's this you're talking about?"

"Wait, _what_ girl?" the young witch with the shiny black hair exclaimed, turning to the boy who had an arm wrapped around her, "Dean-"

"Parvati," Dean said, giving a small chuckle, "_You_ only matter to me. We were just talking about something … Luna said."

Parvati eased and smiled slightly, "Alright."

"So Luna who were you talking about…?" Dean's voice trailed off, as he noticed Luna had begun humming the tune to the current song being played, "Magic Works" and was no longer paying attention.

Parvati tugged at Dean's arm and requested that they danced, to which he agreed and left, bidding goodbyes to his friends.

"B-bye Dean!" called out Neville

"Let's dance, Neville!" Luna suddenly exclaimed, causing Neville to jump backwards and hit a slow-dancing Fifth Year couple.

Mumbling apologies to the people he just hit, Neville turned to Luna, "Didn't Ern-"

"Oh, Ernie left," said Luna, "but anyway, it's nice to dance with a friend."

Neville nodded and Luna turned to the boy with the goblet of pumpkin juice in his hand, "You know, you should ask her."

The boy with the pumpkin juice snapped out his his thoughts, finally moving his eyes off of the scene at the stone steps. From what he'd noticed, she had stopped shaking, looking more composed, more like her everyday self.

"Ask who?"

"Oh _you_ know," Luna said giving him a small wink, "having a dance with a _friend_ is nice, you know."

Luna was right, and he was dumb. Why had he begun to think of her romantically? She had always considered him a friend, and that he saw her crying was not supposed to change anything.

_She's yeh friend. She's only yeh friend._

"Should I? Ask her?"

"Of course you should!" Luna beamed.

"Wait, what?" Neville asked turning to them, "What's going on? I'm confused."

Ignoring his question, Luna grabbed Neville by the sleeve of his dress robes and led him into the crowd, saying "C'mon Neville, this part is my favorite!"

Only then, when he was left standing alone in the center of a crowded room, did it hit him – just do it.

_Yer only friends, nothin' can change that. It won't kill yeh. Just do it. Start walkin' already._

He made his legs move through the crowd and towards her. He left his pumpkin juice on a table on his way there, as he did not want it anymore. He took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair to make sure he looked alright, then spoke.

"Hello Hermione."

She looked up at him, her eyes red, her hair back to its curly self, her dress slightly ruffled, though none of those things surprised him. The thing that did surprise him though, was that at that very moment, Hermione Granger actually looked rather lost.

Hermione realized that someone had come, and blushed as she spoke, "Oh – Hello Seamus."

He nodded for no real reason, and said rather quickly, "Mind if I sit with yeh?"

"Oh – No, not at all."

Hermione suddenly found herself to be very self-conscious. She attempted to wipe away at the smudges around her eyes, to at least appear a bit better.

_Does it matter what you look like?_

Seamus sat down next to her, pulling his knees up to his chest and giving her a small smile.

_No. No, it doesn't. _

"Were yeh alright? I –er- saw yeh…"

"Crying?"

He nodded.

_You share the same relationship with Seamus that you do with Ron and Harry – possibly less, as you two don't talk much. _

"Ron and I," Hermione said, taking a deep breath as they watched the couples dancing, "we got into an argument. It was over nothing important, though."

Seamus felt although "nothing important" was actually something important, but that she did not want to talk about it with him – and he respected that. That's what friends did.

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she tried to fix her hair, and kept her eyes away from his because she knew that if they made eye contact she would have to say something, but she had nothing to say. At one point (when her eyes fell on Dean and Parvati) she noticed that Seamus had changed since Third Year. His hair had darkened greatly since his First Year; no longer a sandy brown, but brown similar to her own. His eyes were still the blue-green they had been. And when it came to height, he had grown a bit.

Seamus suddenly said something, and Hermione snapped out of her reverie.

"Sorry?" she said, embarrassed that she had not been paying attention when she should have.

"I said: do yeh want to dance with me?"

Hermione went scarlet, "_Dance_?"

Seamus turned away, though she swore she could have seen him go pink, "If yeh don't want to, that's fine. I don't want it to ruin our friendship or nothin', so I'm not gonna force yeh."

"No," she said, "I never said I wouldn't dance with you, it's just I …"

_You don't want things to be romantic like with Victor, or difficult to label like with Ron… You want to be friends, but still be able to dance with me… Like Harry…_

"I'll dance with you," Hermione said turning to Seamus and giving him a small smile.

He lit up like one of the many Christmas trees in the Great Hall, going from pink to bright red.

"Alright," Seamus said, clearing his throat. He stood up, brushing off the dust on his trousers, he offered Hermione his hand, "allons-y."

He said "allons-y" (which she had heard some of the Beauxbatons Students say – it meant "Let's go" in French) in an odd sort of way because of his Irish accent. Though, it did not bother Hermione as she probably sounded odd herself when she said it.

Seamus took her hand and helped her up; they linked arms and made their own way through the crowd. They found their own spot, and Hermione's self-conscious feeling was back.

_Was her hair that bad? And the mascara on her lashes, was it running? Was her dress wrinkled?_

Seamus saw it on her face, the way her eyes darted around looking at what she considered being thousands of flaws. The critical mind of hers, working at a fast speed.

"Yeh look fine," he said, giving a small smile, "Hermione, who's lookin' at yeh? It's just yeh and me."

And to Hermione, Seamus was perfectly right. Who was looking at them? They were just another Fourth Year couple slow-dancing to "Magic Works". They were nobody special, not really at least. She found comfort in him, and he found her to be brilliant and passionate about everything she did.

They were nobody special to anyone there, but they were special to each other, and that's what mattered.

Hermione buried her face into his shoulder, taking in his stubble scent of cologne and books. Books? Yes, books. That smell made her feel at ease, it made her feel like she was home.

"Thank you, Seamus." Said in a thankful tone and whispered into the shoulder of his robes, just the sound of her voice was able to make the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

"Thankin' me… what for?"

She smelt like vanilla, and he realized in that moment that he quite liked that smell.

"For everything."

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, but then things began changing. The pink from Parvati Patil's dress merged with the sunflower yellow of Luna's dress, and the periwinkle blue from Hermione's dress and forming a scene.

He was no longer in the Great Hall and the smell of vanilla was gone. Instead he was standing before the Astronomy Tower, below a sky bleeding with hues of pink, periwinkle and yellow. Dumbledore lay motionless and gone on the floor, and Harry stood there crying at the feet of the great Wizard. Wands were raised at the sky to vanquish the Dark Mark and all he saw over and over were flashes of bright green light.

Then he heard something – a voice.

"Seamus!"

_Whose voice was that? He knew he'd heard it somewhere before, but he was not sure where._

Something grabbed his shoulder and began to shake him roughly.

"How long's he been like this?"

"Fifteen minutes," a dreamy voice replied.

_Fifteen minutes? What had he been doing for fifteen minutes?_

"Bullocks," said someone in the distance, "they're coming" – he then heard the sound of something slamming shut – "I can see them. They're all the way down in Hufflepuff's compartment, but they're coming fast!"

"Seamus!"

His eyes shot open. He suddenly stood upright, stumbling in the process, his head throbbing and odd shapes in front of his eyes.

"Mate, sit down," Dean said sharply, "compose yourself."

"You were sleeping quite heavily," Neville informed.

"I believe the Nargles are behind it," Luna announced.

Seamus looked at her, then at Neville and finally at Dean.

He then realized something.

He was not at the Yule Ball with Hermione, nor was he at the Astronomy Tower standing before a crying Harry and dead Dumbledore. It was September 1st, 1997 and Luna, Dean, Neville and Seamus were on board the Hogwarts Express. They were heading to a once beautiful place known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


End file.
